


With a Capital T

by cloudymagnolia



Series: Epilogue (Prologue) [3]
Category: Kingdom Hearts (Video Games)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Kingdom Hearts II, Pre-Kingdom Hearts Dream Drop Distance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:07:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26071642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cloudymagnolia/pseuds/cloudymagnolia
Summary: “I really want to kiss you,” Sora announces.“And?”“And my butt is sore from sitting out here. Wanna go out ourselves to our friends by making out on Selphie’s couch?”Riku can’t help the way he snorts as Sora helps him up.“Okay.”----OR: Riku, Sora, and Kairi go to a party during their break on the Islands after KHII. Riku has a meltdown. Sora helps.No OCs (amazingly) so can be read stand-alone.
Relationships: Riku/Sora (Kingdom Hearts)
Series: Epilogue (Prologue) [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1888540
Comments: 2
Kudos: 84





	With a Capital T

**Author's Note:**

> YES, the title is an allusion to The Music Man. No, I'm not sorry.

It takes Kairi less than a week to get Selphie to have the party she’s been wanting. It’s just a normal Islands party—pool, snacks, video games, probably some dancing—but Kairi goes all in. She insists on coming over to Riku’s house early so that they can get ready together (she’d invited Sora to get ready with them, too, but he had politely but  _ very  _ firmly declined. Despite Kairi’s best and ongoing efforts, fashion just isn’t his scene), and when Riku complains that  _ her _ house is bigger and also not full of toddlers, Kairi just points out that her house is out because her dad doesn’t know they’re going to a party.

Riku suffers through a solid 15 minutes of serving as Kairi’s personal doll, modeling outfits until he’s ready to strangle her, but finally she settles on dark wash skinny jeans and a black, deep v-neck t-shirt for him. She even remembers that Riku has a chain lying around—it had had a pendant once, but that got lost eons ago—and rifles through his desk drawers until she finds it and makes him put it on, insisting it will “draw attention to his collarbones.”

Thank  _ god  _ he keeps his sexy stuff in his nightstand. 

He’d be annoyed by how bossy she’s being, but then she produces a flat iron and some hair oil from her bag and waves him into his desk chair, and he can’t hold onto the irritation, because, well…

His hair does always look better when Kairi does it for him. 

Once she’s done fussing over him, he lies on his back on his bed while she changes and gets ready herself. He’s bored, so he offers to help her with her hair—which she correctly interprets as a threat—and do her makeup. The makeup she takes him up on, dumping her cosmetics out across his desk and tilting her face up so it hits the light right.

“I wish my hands were as steady as yours,” she says enviously as Riku fixes the mess she’s already made of her eyeliner, even though they  _ both  _ know the real reason he’s good at this is because he spent an ungodly amount of time as a child watching trashy makeover shows on TV and practicing what he learned on Selphie and Kairi. He tops it off with a classic smoky eye and leans back to examine his work critically while Kairi makes fish faces at him to be annoying.

They’re both ready and sitting on the front stoop by the time Sora shows up. All the fuss is worth it, too, when they stand to greet Sora and he gives them both the full once over, eyes lingering on Riku’s collarbone, his chest, and—Riku flushes—his package. By the time Sora meets his eyes again, he’s blushing too, and the way he licks his lips makes Riku’s heart rate spike.

It takes about 20 minutes to get to the Tilmitt’s house from Riku’s. Sora’s and Kairi’s houses are technically closer, but Selphie’s property is massive, and the worst part of the walk by far is the long, winding,  _ uphill _ driveway connecting the road to the Tilmitt’s front door, so it doesn’t really matter where they leave from. 

Riku’s been to Selphie’s house a million times (they all have. With how wealthy the Tilmitts are, Selphie would have been easy to hate, if she wasn’t so bubbly and generous, absolutely  _ determined _ to be friends with everyone, even panicking, hormonal little shits like Riku) so he’s expecting the glass-and-chrome modern facade, painfully out of place against the stucco cottages and jasmine-covered villas that make up the Reef Side of the Big Island. He’s  _ not  _ expecting the multicolored strobe lights in the front yard, or the bass pumping so loud he can feel it rattling the air in his lungs. 

“What the…” he says stupidly, trailing to a stop. Next to him, Sora looks at Kairi, equally startled.

“Didn’t I tell you?” she says, snickering behind her hand. “Selphie’s parents are out of town this weekend.”

“Kairi!” Sora says, shocked, and even Riku feels a little flustered.

“Come on, you mean you didn’t guess?” she says, looking at them with a mixture of incredulity and amusement. “Why  _ else  _ wouldn’t I tell my dad where I was really going?”

“But—but…” Sora stammers, looking like he always does when one of his friends disappoints him: like a kicked puppy. Riku winces, because he knows it is no fun at  _ all  _ to have that expression leveled on you, but strangely, Kairi doesn’t seem to mind.

“Please, Sora,” she says, grabbing his hand and towing him up to the door. “I’m not taking my two little heroes of light to a  _ rager  _ or something. Selphie’s such a sweetheart, I bet she doesn’t even have alcohol. She’s probably just using it as an excuse to play music without keeping up her parents.”

Kairi—as ever—turns out to be right. The front door is unlocked when Kairi tries the handle—Riku assumes it is, anyways; he doesn’t think she’s had enough time to learn how to unlock doors without fully materializing her keyblade—and they let themselves in. They’re met with a generous spread of drinks and snacks when they walk through to the great room, but the drinks are all designer water bottles and fancy sodas and stuff.

“Kairi!” Selphie shouts, darting forwards and throwing herself at the other girl. “You were so  _ right _ , that outfit is  _ hot _ , but please tell me you wore your swimsuit underneath—waitasecond, who are your friends?”

For a split second, Riku’s heart stops. He knows that he and Sora haven’t seen any of their old friends in the week they’ve been home—they’ve been too busy getting readjusted to their families and not almost-dying all the time—and he knows they had been gone for a while, but he hadn’t realized he’d walk into a friend’s house and be greeted like  _ strangers _ .

“Oh my god!” Selphie gasps, clasping her hands over her mouth. “Riku? Sora!”

And just like that, they’re home again.

There are more gasps, some squeals, a few shouts of laughter—and then Riku and Sora are  _ mobbed _ , and Riku’s entire world narrows to hugs and hand slaps and people ruffling his hair. While he knew people would be happy to see Sora, privately he’s surprised by how happily people are welcoming  _ him _ . After all, that last year, it hadn’t just been Kairi and Sora he’d been a dick to. He wonders if it’s some sort of magic or trick, a leftover glamor from his brush with darkness seeping into their minds and warping their memories—and then Sora laughs from some unseen spot next to him, and he remembers: if Sora can forgive him—if Sora can  _ love  _ him—then  _ anything _ is truly possible.

Eventually the squealing and shouting die away, and it’s Selphie who asks the inevitable, wide-eyed, “But where  _ were _ you guys?”

Riku blanches, but Kairi’s prepared. She takes Selphie aside and whispers something in her ear that makes her mouth pop open and her eyes go wide in surprise. Kairi pulls back and says something else, and Selphie nods, face determined, making an x across her heart. When Kairi turns back to him, she gives him an exaggerated wink, and Riku snorts. He’s not even sure he  _ wants _ to know what Kairi told her, but he  _ is  _ sure everyone at the party—and possibly other  _ worlds— _ will have heard it by the end of the night.

There are a few moments of potentially awkward silence where Selphie is eyeing him like she wants to say something, but then she shakes her head. A second later, she’s trying to round up people to change into their swimsuits and go soak in the pool.

There are cheers and claps from many of the girls and groans of distress from most of the guys. Riku’s mouth quirks up a bit. It’s cute, how boys pretend to be too old and too cool for hanging out by the pool when in reality they’re transparently panicking about seeing cute teenagers in their swimsuits and how they’ll stack up against their peers. Then his eyes land on Sora, already knee-deep in some story he’s telling Tidus, waving his hands animatedly, and he realizes he’s being kind of a douchebag, when he was so concerned about the same thing for so long.

“Oh, boys are  _ lame _ !” Selphie humphs when her third attempt at getting Wakka to join her, Kairi, Dona, Lulu, and Shelinda in the pool is rebuffed. “You and Tidus practically  _ live _ in the blitzball pool, anyways!”

“That’s different, yah?” Wakka says, blushing and looking everywhere but at Lulu. “That has a point—it’s not just lying around.”

“Right, because it only has a  _ point _ if someone can  _ win _ ,” Selphie mutters, crossing her arms. “Riku, Sora, you guys want to come to the pool, right? I bet you both want to stay with Kairi.” She says it in the sly voice of someone producing a trump card.

Riku wouldn’t have thought anything of the comment—he, Sora, and Kairi are best friends. Of course they like being together—if Kairi hadn’t pointedly snorted into her hands. Riku feels his face heating up. Luckily, Sora—as always—has his back.

“Sorry, Selphie!” he says, truly sounding it. “Neither of us brought our trunks. But next time for sure!”

Privately, Riku doesn’t think he’s up for it next time, either. The scar on his hip and side from fighting Xehanort last week is coming in, becoming a keloid because of all of the potions and cure magic he and Sora pumped into it in the hours after it happened when they were desperately trying to keep him alive. It’s turning white, and rubbery, and— _ alarming _ -looking, and he doesn’t want anyone to comment on it. He doesn’t even want anyone to see it.

“Aw, phooey,” Selphie says, for one bizarre moment sounding like Donald. But she’s never been good at sulking, and a moment later she decides the girls will have more fun without the boys anyways.

“Good man,” Wakka says after the girls are out of earshot, throwing an arm over Sora’s shoulder. “We can’t let the girls run our lives, can we?”

Sora gives Riku a look that speaks  _ volumes _ over Wakka’s shoulder as the three of them, plus Tidus, Seymour, Barthello, Isaaru, and Maroda head downstairs to the game room.

It doesn’t take them long to get Hyper Smash set up on the Game Station, but there are only four controllers, so he, Sora, Tidus, and Wakka agree to play a game of pool while the other four devise some sort of tournament order. At first, Riku assumes that he and Sora will team up against Tidus and Wakka, but Wakka protests at the last second.

“You and Sora aren’t allowed to be on the same team, remember?” he says, laughing.

Riku  _ does  _ remember. It was some fight the four of them got into when he was fourteen, after he and Sora had wiped the floor with Wakka and Tidus four times in a row when they were playing blitzball two-on-two. He remembers him saying something petulant about it  _ not being fair to play two people who can read each other’s minds! _

It hadn’t bothered him at the time. If anything, he had been grateful for it, for any additional wall he could throw up between his heart and Sora.

Now it just makes him sad. Haven’t he and Sora spent enough time on opposite sides?

In the end, they fall back into their old teams of Wakka and Sora versus Tidus and Riku. Wakka breaks, gloating the entire time about how he and Sora are gonna  _ cream  _ the other two. When he was fifteen, he would have let that rile him up and started trash talking right back. But now, he just smiles as Wakka chooses solids and sinks two clean shots before missing and turning the table over to Riku.

Riku sinks three almost without thinking about it, before he realizes that after spending over a year relying on his strength, control, and hand-eye coordination to survive, he might not be the world’s most fair opponent, and misses one on purpose. Tidus whoops and slaps his back, and Riku gives the table to Sora.

Sora seems to have come to the same conclusion as Riku, albeit earlier. He copies Riku, sinking three, and then obviously whiffing, sending the four ball careening off into the eight ball.

Wakka doesn’t notice the deliberate mistake, instead grabbing Sora up in a crushing hug before giving Tidus the table.

The game continues like that for a while. Once the easy shots are taken, the game becomes less about hand-eye coordination and more about angles, and Riku and Sora don’t have to hold back as much. One thing stays the same, though: after every one of Sora’s turns, Wakka grabs him, pulling him into a hug, or giving him a noogie, or lifting him up and twirling him around.

It shouldn’t bother Riku. He wishes it  _ didn’t  _ bother him. It’s stupid. Wakka has always been rough and affectionate, especially with the kids he regards as little brothers. Especially since Chappu -

No one likes to talk about that.

He  _ knows _ that. Knows the little touches and brushes don’t  _ mean  _ anything. But that doesn’t stop a little stab of poison from piercing his heart each time it happens.

He’s not fifteen anymore, he tries to tell himself as his playing gets more and more erratic. He’s not going to fly into a rage at seeing someone else touch Sora anymore. He’s not going to have a temper tantrum, throw his pool cue, pick a fight with Wakka, or challenge Sora to some chickenshit competition to make those dawn-blue eyes come back to him.

But he  _ is _ , apparently, going to start shaking so badly that he misses three turns in a row, so that Team Sora pulls so far ahead there’s almost no chance that he and Tidus can close the gap.

There’s only one solid left on the table, not counting the eight ball, while four stripes are left. It’s Sora’s turn, and he takes his time setting up his shot, bending at the waist over the table, eyes intense, little pink tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth. Unthinking, Sora grabs the sleeve of his t-shirt—one of the ones that used to be Riku’s—and pushes it up his shoulder, like the fabric was distracting him, and it reveals a lithe, toned, tan bicep. He pumps the pool cue twice between his fingers, lining up the angle just right, then pops his bicep and sends the one ball into the corner pocket perfectly. 

Wakka crows like they’ve won already and grabs Sora by the waist, lifting him into the air. 

“You’re so tiny! I just wanna squeeze you!” he whoops, while Sora blushes, and Riku suddenly realizes he’s  _ done _ . He’s shaking so bad he nearly drops his cue and hands it off to Tidus at the last second.

“I need some air,” he mutters, knowing his face is blotchy with rage, and writhes when Tidus’s face changes from confusion to—after a quick flick of his eyes at Sora—pity.

“Yeah, man,” he says softly. “Of course.”

He doesn’t dare look at Sora as he walks past. He doesn’t want Sora to have to see the same expression on his face as he knows he must have been wearing when he broke the world.

Embarrassingly, this isn’t even the first time he’s stormed out of one of Selphie’s parties to go sulk by himself, so he knows where to go to be alone. At the side of the house that’s pressed up close to the bluff, there’s a sundial and a little bench with some scruffy hibiscus plants, and he knows no one ever comes here.

He forgoes the bench, choosing instead to sit on the hard ground with his back to the sundial’s pedestal. He draws his knees up to his forehead, wills himself to stop shaking. He falls naturally into the breathing exercises Mickey had taught him. He repeats his mantra to himself: He  _ loves  _ Sora. He  _ does not  _ own Sora. 

It doesn’t seem to help like it used to.

He tries to calm his heartbeat. Tries to diagnose what went wrong tonight. Tries to identify a way he can  _ do better.  _

“That’s where you got to.”

Riku jerks his head up so fast he conks it against the sundial, swearing viciously at the stars of pain that burst in front of his eyes.

“Cure.”

The pain recedes so suddenly it makes his eyes water.

“I just bumped my head,” Riku mutters as Sora drops down cross-legged next to him. “Not worth wasting a cure spell.”

“I’m not exactly worried about running out of magic, here,” he says. Riku’s expecting him to say more, but he doesn’t. Just leans back on his hands and looks out at the horizon.

“Sora,” Riku huffs, another layer of guilt already settling on top of the others.

“Riku.”

“You should go back inside.” It comes out harsher than he meant, and he rushes to explain: “I mean, you were having a nice time. I don’t want to ruin your night...” He trails off, feeling useless.

Sora hums.

“I can’t go back inside until you tell me what’s hurting you, though.”

“ _ Nothing _ ,” Riku snaps, and Sora rears back like he’s been hit. He moves to stand up, and  _ oh god, oh god, oh god,  _ he fucked up. It’s only been seven days since they’d faced each other under the sheets of Riku’s twin bed, and Sora, tears streaming down his cheeks, had made Riku promise to tell him the  _ truth  _ from now on about what was hurting him.

“Wait!” he says, blindly groping for whatever part of Sora he can reach. His palm lands on his ankle. “I’m sorry—I didn’t  _ mean  _ that—I know it doesn’t make it better, but I didn’t mean to say it. It was a reflex.”

Sora stops moving when Riku starts talking and freezes for a moment. Then he seems to accept Riku’s apology, because he settles back down. Riku goes to pull his hand away, but Sora’s reaches down and holds it there, lightning-quick.

“It’s just…” he groans. “So embarrassing.”

“Riku,” Sora says, rubbing a thumb over the back of his hand. “Please tell me what’s wrong.”

“I’m—" he clicks his tongue. Clears his throat. “Jealous.”

There’s a beat of silence as Sora processes. 

“Oh,” he says. “Of me?” he hazards, undoubtedly thinking back to the Dark Beach, where Riku had been more honest with him than he had been in  _ years _ . Until this last week, at least.

“Not just that,” he whispers, feeling self-destructive, angry tears welling in the corners of his eyes, because  _ fuck _ this is  _ humiliating.  _ He worked so hard to reclaim the light, and now here he is, back where he started, darkness laid bare. “Also... _ over  _ you.”

“ _ Oh _ ,” Sora says, breath a little shaky. Riku can’t open his eyes without letting the tears escape, but he wouldn’t want to, either. He’s too afraid of the expression on Sora’s face. “Riku, that’s really…” he pauses for a second, and Riku wonders if he’s supposed to supply the word: Messed up? Creepy? Evil? Weird? Deeply troubling and problematic?

“ _ Hot. _ ”

He rips his eyes open at that, and his collected tears  _ do  _ fall down his face in a tiny torrent, but he needs to  _ see _ . Sora’s eyes are glassy, and even though it’s too dark to see the color of his flush, he knows it’s there from the way he’s biting his lip and shyly smiling at him.

“Sora…” Riku says, voice hoarse. “Sora,  _ no _ .”

He blinks twice, quickly. “No?” he asks.

“ _ No _ ,” Riku says, just as firmly, desperately looking for the words he needs. He can’t find them, so thinks  _ fuck it _ , and just dives in without any plan: “Sora, this thing I have, it’s not a—a  _ mild possessiveness kink _ . It’s my  _ darkness. _ It’s why I—I—it’s why any of this  _ happened _ —it  _ scares  _ me...”

Sora’s eyebrows have crawled up into his hairline.

“Hey,” he says, reaching for Riku’s face. He pauses with his hands hovering an inch or so from his cheeks, asking permission. Riku nods, and Sora cradles him, thumbs brushing the remnants of tears from the corners of his eyes, his eyelashes. “Is that what happened? You got jealous of how Wakka was touching me, and that made you remember what it felt like before?”

For some reason, the tenderness is making Riku want to cry  _ more _ , not less. He nods once, jerkily.

Sora sighs, low and long.

“That...makes sense,” he mutters, mostly to himself, and Riku wonders if he’s lining the pieces up in his mind, slotting Riku’s behavior during the year before his fall to darkness into place. “Hey. I’m sorry. For saying it was hot. For the record, I was wrong. You being scared or in pain is  _ never _ hot to me.”

“It’s fine,” he mumbles. “You didn’t know.”

Sora snorts. “I still could’ve read the situation better. It was inappropriate to say, in the circumstances. I could see you were hurting.”

He’s quiet for a second. “Hey,” he says, watching him carefully. “Want me to hold you a minute?”

“...yes,” Riku mutters, having to drown out the chickenshit part of his brain that still thinks being comforted is for pussies.

“Good. C’mere.” Sora trails his hands down his cheeks, his neck, his shoulders, his arms, and Riku moves so he can take his hands. He lets Sora draw him into his lap, settle his knees on either side of Sora’s hips, lets him draw their chests together. Riku is enough taller than him that Sora has to hook his chin over Riku’s shoulder to give him a place to rest his head, ear flattening Sora’s hair spikes. Sora hums a little, mindlessly, as he caresses soothing shapes into Riku’s back, and Riku’s heart begins to relax into the melody.

He takes a few more deep, shuddering breaths, just for good measure, then eases himself off of Sora’s lap and resumes his earlier position, leaning against the sundial.

“Thanks,” Riku says.

“For what?”

“For—coming to find me. Asking me what was wrong. Listening to me talk. Comforting me.”  _ For being you. For loving me. For letting me love you _ . He doesn’t say any of those things, but maybe Sora can hear them anyways. “It’s just frustrating. I thought I was doing better with it, and then  _ this  _ happens…”

Sora hums thoughtfully. “I’m not so sure about that,” he says, and  _ god  _ that hurts. He probably deserves it—is probably being conceited when he thinks he’s become stronger, different,  _ better _ —but it still hurts to hear Sora say it. “That this was the same kind of jealousy as before,” Sora clarifies.

Riku blinks. “Huh?”

“Well…” he draws the word out. “When I think how you were—were  _ jealous _ before…” he says it like he’s trying it out, tasting the idea. “You were always goading me. Trying to rile me up. Upset me.” Riku winces. “It was because you were trying to get my attention back on you, right?”

“Yeah,” he admits.

“But tonight…” Sora pauses, cocking his head. He does that when he’s thinking, as if he’s listening to ideas only he can hear. “It was like you were trying to  _ deflect  _ my attention, instead. You didn’t say  _ anything  _ while we were playing pool. The first thing you said when I came to find you was that you didn’t want to ruin my night.”

His eyes flick up to him, thoughtful and caring. “Back then—before—when you were jealous, what did it make you want to do?”

“To hurt you bad enough that you  _ had  _ to pay attention to me,” Riku whispers, because it’s far too late to lie now.

“And tonight?”

“To leave before I had the chance to hurt you.”

“And if you had stayed? What would you have wanted to do?”

“I—" he blinks. He doesn’t know. He hadn’t let himself think about it. Not really. “I guess...I would have wanted to wait until we could be alone for a minute and taken you out back somewhere to kiss you cross-eyed.”

“To make me feel so  _ good _ that I had to pay attention to you,” Sora says.

Riku raises an eyebrow, unconvinced. It seems like Sora’s doing an awful lot of mental gymnastics to prove to himself that Riku’s changed…

As if he can feel Riku beginning to disagree in the privacy of his mind, Sora presses on:

“Even the  _ thing  _ that made you jealous was different this time. It didn’t bother you that someone was paying attention to me so much as that Wakka was being so handsy with me, right?”

“Not...quite,” Riku says, really thinking about it. “I mean, if someone was really trying to come onto you that strong with touching you and stuff, I’d probably be pissed. But—it’s  _ Wakka.  _ He’s like that with everyone, and I know he didn’t mean anything by it. It just...made me  _ mad  _ how easily he can touch you in public when it doesn’t even  _ mean  _ anything to him, when  _ I  _ have a fucking meltdown everytime I want to kiss your fucking  _ cheek _ .”

Sora blinks up at him.

“So you were jealous of Wakka because he doesn’t overthink things?”

“ _ Yes! _ ” Riku says, louder than he meant to, grateful to have words to put to the emotion.  _ Finally _ . “I  _ know _ how much you love touching the people you’re close to, and I can’t even do  _ that  _ for you without getting so deep in my own head I can  _ taste  _ my stupid insecurities—"

To his complete surprise, Sora interrupts him with a bark of laughter—a bubble of pure joy.

“Sora?”

“No, it’s just—" he says, grabbing his hand and gripping it too tight. “I really,  _ really _ think what you were feeling tonight was different from what you felt before.”

Riku frowns, but it’s a thinking frown, not a disagreeing frown.

“Maybe?” he says, finally. He’ll have to mull it over more. He doesn’t want to—to  _ delude  _ himself into thinking he’s not still struggling with his original darkness, but...now that he and Sora have broken it down a little more, it really  _ does  _ feel kind of different.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Sora asks after a while.

“Of course,” Riku says, almost offended that Sora felt the need to ask.

Sora looks at him, smiling ruefully. “I didn’t like Wakka touching me like that, either.”

“Wait.  _ What _ ?” Riku says, snapping to attention, alarm bells going off in his brain. “Was he actually—did I miss—"

“No! No,” Sora’s quick to reassure him. “If he had been feeling me up, I would have hit him so hard he’d have landed in next  _ week _ . I just...don’t like how he makes such a big deal about how small I am.”

“Huh?” Riku asks intelligently.

“He’s always talking about it. How I’m so tiny, or a shorty, or a shrimp, and it kind of bothers me. Stupid, right? I thought I would’ve gotten over it, but you’ve grown so much more than me—hell, even  _ Kairi  _ is taller than me now!—and now we’re dating, and you’re fucking  _ gorgeous _ , and—"

“You’re fucking gorgeous, too,” Riku says, feeling slow and stupid.

"—I can’t help—what did you say?”

“I  _ said _ you’re fucking gorgeous, too.”

“I— _ what _ ? No, I’m not.”

“Sora,” Riku says flatly. “You’ve felt me get hard  _ against you _ . You’ve made me come just from  _ kissing  _ me. Of course you are.”

“That’s because you love me, silly, not because you think I’m hot.”

Riku blinks a few times, processing that information. He—what? Does he not think— _ what?  _

“Sora, you’re the most gorgeous person I’ve ever seen on  _ any  _ world.”

Sora blinks at him. “What?” he asks, voice surprisingly flat.

“You...really are,” Riku says, not sure what else to say. “Your eyes are amazing and you have the best smile I’ve ever seen and you’re tan, and lithe, and lean, and you’ve got a  _ great _ ass and—"

“You like my ass?”

Riku flushes scarlet and hopes it’s too dark out for Sora to see. He has to remind himself that they  _ are _ dating. He’s allowed to like his boyfriend’s ass.

“Yeah.”

“But—the fact that I’m so small isn’t, like…a turn-off for you?”

He shakes his head.

“ _ Really _ ?”

“I...like it. Actually.”

Sora stares at him, and Riku has to cover his face with his hands. How did they end up  _ here _ ? How is he supposed to explain his  _ size kink  _ to his boyfriend?

“Look, you’re amazing and strong and so—so  _ vibrant _ , and I like that I can just...reach out and wrap it all up in my arms. It’s hot.”

Sora’s still staring at him. He can’t see it, of course—his eyes are still covered by his hands—but he can  _ feel  _ it. He groans.

“Look, I’m sorry. I know it’s weird, okay?”

That seems to snap Sora out of—whatever.

“Well, I already admitted to—what did you call it? A  _ mild possessiveness kink _ , so I guess we’re even.”

Riku snorts and finally drops his hands. “I really am sorry, though,” he says. “If it makes you feel weird. I shouldn’t like something that makes you feel weird.”

Sora shakes his head. “No. I don’t think so? Feel that weird about it. I’m glad you’re into me. I just never thought...well, that something that isn’t a turn-on for me  _ would _ be a turn-on for you. And I think...um. It might make me feel better? The worst part was. I dunno. Feeling like my body would be a disappointment.”

“Not possible.” Riku was going for light, but it comes out heavier than he meant it to. Sora turns to him and grins.

“I really want to kiss you,” he announces.

“And?”

“And my butt is sore from sitting out here. Wanna go out ourselves to our friends by making out on Selphie’s couch?”

Riku can’t help the way he snorts as Sora helps him up.

“Okay.”

It’s probably not the world’s best thought-out plan, but nothing with Sora is.

He wouldn’t want it any other way. 

**Author's Note:**

> Bonus: Riku and Sora make out on the couch in Selphie’s great room, which means Tidus is the first one to see them wrapped up in each other when he comes up to get a soda. He stares stonily at them for a moment, then mutters under his breath:
> 
> “I’m going to go kill Wakka.”
> 
> The girls are next, chattering happily as they come in from the pool. There are a few noises of shock, broken by Kairi, who says:
> 
> “Christ, guys, I leave you alone for ten minutes-”
> 
> It’s been way longer than ten minutes. Riku flips her off, while Sora reaches for his hand and tries to scold him without breaking the suction of his face.
> 
> The rest of the boys find out next, when they come upstairs, at Selphie’s insistence, to play truth or dare. Wakka takes it worst, but more out of surprise than malice.
> 
> “Tidus, is this why you punched me?” he demands. Then: “Wait. Aren’t they both into Kairi?”
> 
> Tidus hisses something at him.
> 
> “But Riku would get so jealous whenever Sora spent time with her!”
> 
> Tidus punches him again.
> 
> “Ow!” A pause. “Oh…”


End file.
